


Working Above it All

by Glamourcat



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 10:38:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4388585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glamourcat/pseuds/Glamourcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Fallen Angel explains why she fell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Working Above it All

Title: Working Above it All  
Author: J.R. Cooper  
Date Completed: 9/21/99, 6:52 PM  
Part: 1 of 1  
Warnings: G-rated  
Disclaimer: All characters in this work are my own original creation and may not be used without express permission.  
Summary: A Fallen Angel explains why she fell.  
Distribution: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/jrcsmin  
Notes: This was originally written for a college writing assignment to tell a complete story in 1500 words or less. I almost made it. It’s 1588 words. I still got a good grade on it though.

 

A lot of my friends from work still stop by to talk to me from time to time. And no matter how often they’ve asked the last time they came by, they always ask the same thing again.

“Why did you…I mean…How could you just quit?"

I always tell them the same thing, but you know how angels are--flighty. Full of love, yes, but very fickle and forgetful.

“I didn’t quit,” I tell them. “I’m still working, still in the business of saving souls.”

“But,” They say, “how can you do it from down here? You fell, you’re no longer a full creature of God.”

“Am I not? Are the humans and animals any less creatures of God then you, still all full-fledged angels.”

It always hurts their little brains when I question them thusly, “Do I as a fallen angel work any less down here on the streets of these cities than you all do flying in the skies, working above it all?”

I usually must walk them to the door and let them out, least they forget that I’ve angel-proofed my house and bump their saintly little heads on the ceiling trying to float away.

“Don’t you ever think about coming back?” They always ask just before I slam the door on their pretty faces.

“No.” I say. “How could I give up all this? To be able to feel the emotions of the people I help first hand, to be right in the thick of things, dirt under my fingernails. Don’t you ever think of leaving for this? Don’t you ever get tired of working above it all?”

The door shuts without waiting for their answer and I have some peace before the next well-meaning sop comes to visit me.


End file.
